


Full Throttle

by Dorkjitsu



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Turtlecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6869152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkjitsu/pseuds/Dorkjitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Orig. published 2008)  Raph's obsession with his bike gets...exploited. In all the good ways. T-cest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Throttle

1500 CCs of pure potential, thrumming, vibrating through his body. Faster than the wind, Raphael _brings_ the wind as he tears through the streets in raw motion. Lights and muted colors flash by as he tilts and controls the bike, swerving around obstacles and blowing through familiar alleys at neck-break speeds. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, making him high and reckless. Alive. A building approaches his path of travel, and he opens the throttle- the bike gaining speed until he's up on his haunches, his weight pressing down on the footpegs. He's feeling, relying on instincts and a calculation of distance. An old trick but a new thrill.  
  
Raphael presses in on the handlebars and leans the bike low to the ground as he makes a turn that scorches the pavement and burns the tires. His thighs clench around the beast, holding it, _controlling_ it. The excitement bubbles in his chest as he comes near -so near!- the wall. He eases on the throttle as he regains an upright balance, having successfully conquered the turn, then opens the throttle madly. The violent vibrations of the engine keep his nerves alive, sending a pleasurable sensation through his carapace, his shell, his all-too sensitive tail that's pressed against the seat...  
  
He's got a fucking hard-on.  
  
Not that this is anything new. He slides his tail back and forth, lavishing in the thrumming roar of his bike. It takes every iota of self-control not to close his eyes against the sensation; freedom, skill, power in the form of fuel injection and combustion...  
  
All too soon, the doors of a familiar warehouse loom in front of him. Down shifting a gear, he maneuvers the bike through the gap in the fence with speed that he would be chastised for if anyone saw. Before he can downshift to neutral though, the steel door raised to welcome him; a brother must have seen his approach after all.  
  
The motorcycle creeps to a stop at its usual side of the garage, Raphael making sure not to place the tires on any oil spots. That's all he needs, is to find a slick first thing tomorrow evening and topple the bike before even getting it out of the warehouse. For now, he turns the engine's start switch into the off position and reaches down to flip the petcock closed. He leaves the key in the ignition, turned off of course, for fast access. As Raphael flicks the kickstand down and dismounts, Donatello's voice calls up from the other side of the Battleshell.  
  
"Place it on the center stand, will you? I want the two of us to go over something."  
  
Raph grunts in an affirmative response and presses his foot onto the center stand, lifting the bike up and onto it. With the bike upright and even, with tires about two inches from the floor, he goes about removing his helmet and jacket. The bike's performance has been nothing but good lately, but if Don wants to make some sort of mechanical improvement...well, Raph could never have too much speed. Power. The throbbing of his tail attests to that.  
  
At one point, Raphael had been hesitant to interact with any of his brothers immediately after a hard ride such as this. His brothers hadn't been able to understand how an enjoyable event could make him even less sociable and more snappish, but Donatello had caught on. Maybe it had something to do with the brainiac's own obsession with technology, his own type of appreciation. Or it could have been the bulge in Raph's tail that had been easily spotted one evening from Donatello's spot beneath the Battleshell. In any case, their eyes had met for a few moments before Don seemed to shrug it off and continue working.  
  
So it was with no shame that Raph turns back to his brother, who is now looking over the bike with mild interest. The purple-banded turtle glances at Raph, his eyes flicking briefly to the slightly extended tail before diverting his attention back to the Shellcycle.  
  
"Good ride?"  
  
Raph smirks as he comes to join his brother beside the now-cooling bike. "Yeah, she opens up real well now. S'lot of power coming through that engine."  
  
Donatello nods and pulls out an odd-shaped ring of metal and rubber, holding it up for Raphael to inspect. As he does so, Don elaborates, "It's a home-made version of a Throttle Boss. Just secure it to your throttle, and you'll no longer need to hold it open; it's popular for long road trips where fatigue and hand cramps are a concern."  
  
And all of the wrong thoughts about the benefits of having a free hand go through Raph's head. Something must have passed over his eyes, because Don takes the small item from him with a slightly chastising voice. "I don't want to give you anything that may make you more reckless out there..."  
  
The insinuation isn't missed, and Raphael just responds with a grin. Don gives a sigh and clicks the ignition back into position. Taking the hint, Raph shifts into neutral and re-opens the fuel valve through the petcock, watching as Don starts the bike back up. After a few revs, glancing at Raphael quizzically as he does so, Don hands the throttle boss over and stands back.  
  
The excitement of a new toy overshadows any thought to Don's odd look as Raph mounts the bike in a smooth motion. He opens the throttle for a few moments, allowing his eyes to slip closed at the wonderful sensations strumming through his body and bringing him back so semi-hardness. He wasn't about to do anything lewd in front of his brother, but there was no reason not to enjoy the simple sensations. He eases on the throttle and finds, to his delight, that the rings fits securely.  
  
He looks over his shoulder to give an appreciative grin, only to find that Donatello has stepped away. Before he can turn to look over the other shoulder, there's a press of cold metal to his wrist. His instinctive recoil is cut short as the cable is wrapped around the front of the handlebars to reach the other wrist, ultimately anchoring his upper body to the front of the bike. Raphael glares and gnashes his teeth at his all-too pleased brother.  
  
"What the fuck?"  
  
Donatello tsks -actually tsks- him, wagging a finger to make it all the more embarrassing. The slack between Raph's wrists is too tight to fit over the width of the handlebars, so he settles his hands on the still-throttling fuel tank and growls. His brother gives a self-satisfied, infuriating smile. What the shell was this all about?  
  
"I took the liberty of wrapping a protective coat of cable plastic around the chain so that you wouldn't scratch the chrome. And I gave you this useful gift." Donatello fingers the ring as he makes his way around to Raph's other side. "You can growl all you like, but I'd like to be shown a _little_ more appreciation for what I've given you. And what I'm going to give you."  
  
Raph's narrowed eyes suddenly widen in surprise as a hand yanks gently on his tail, pulling it out and pressing it flush against the seat to send a tremor through his body. His brother's earlier quizzical look, the convenient and private welcome...the family shares an open view of sexuality, held tight within their own circle. Raphael had certainly gone to Don a few times, sharing in mutual release. Just as Leonardo and Michelangelo had, he knew it. But Raph had never even heard of Donatello initiating sex, let alone anything so..kinky. Then again, this could be why; perhaps Don's reservations have been due to a disinterest in the 'vanilla' and an uncertainty to pursue anything more elaborate with his brothers. Raphael doesn't like being tied up, but he isn't about to wreck his bike to get free. Don knows this.  
  
"As I said, I don't want to give you anything that will contribute to your recklessness. I know what you _want_ to use it for, and this is simply the safest way to explore those possibilities."  
  
Raph opens his mouth to make a smart-ass comment, only to find a moan escaping as Don oh so casually leans his hand on the back of Raph's tail, pressing the sensitive underside hard against the vibrating leather seat. Raph's eyes slide up to look at his brother and he shudders under Don's gaze: intent, curious... _intrigued_. Donatello always did put a hundred percent of his focus on any of his various projects, and it makes Raph throb to be under such delicious scrutiny. So this is what it feels like to be one of Don's experiments...monitored, manipulated, focused upon. That alone does surprisingly pleasurable things to Raph's body.  
  
Don reaches for the throttle, giving it a twist before putting the ring back into place. Raphael moans deeply as the vibrations increase; he tilts his head back just slightly as his tail presses down on its own accord. The slit spreads minutely as the flesh of his cock just barely peeks out, drawn by the consistent stimuli. This time, Donatello lifts the tail rather than pushes on it, exposing it to the air and making it tingle with the memory of vibration. Raph's eyes snap open and he gasps as a hand cups the underside of his tail, rubbing up and down slowly. He pulls on the chain out of instinct, but is powerless to stop his cock from sliding out beneath the erotic touch. Raph shudders as Don wraps fingers around the shaft, humming in an interested but not overtly sexual way.  
  
Raph's toes curl against the pavement as Don gives an experimental squeeze. Obviously pleased by this reaction, Don fists the shaft and pumps slowly, bringing Raph to full hardness. The engine still roaring between his thighs, Raph lets out a growl and rocks forward, trying to thrust against his brother's hand. He hates, absolutely hates the sound of his whimper as Don releases him and steps back. He attempts to make up for it with his most threatening growl, "Don..."  
  
Then there's a shift on the bike and a familiar presence directly behind him. While leaning forward, Raphael is able to hold his tail up and subsequently keep his erection from touching any part of the rumbling bike. Despite the sounds of the engine and exhaust, Donatello's amused chuckle can still be heard.  
  
"That looks good...very good. But it must be a strain to keep it up like that."  
  
Before Raphael can comment -a theme for the night, it seems- Donatello grabs the nubby tip of his brother's tail and lowers is slowly. It's a tortuous action, Raphael's muscles straining against him to try to prevent the inevitable. It's the touch of cock against thrumming leather that makes Raphael shout out loud and kick with a fierceness that manages to rock the bike on its stand. They're stabilized by Don's own powerful legs as Raphael continues to writhe and struggle against the sensations. So much power, so much vibration! Against such sensitive, nerve-filled flesh!  
  
Donatello just watches for several moments as Raph thrashes, gasps, and _mewls_ against the seat, his muscles bunching and flexing and beginning to shine with a coating of perspiration. Unbeknownst to Raphael, Don's cock slides out if its own hiding place, hard and eager. Finally, he's able to experiment, to play, without fear that a brother would turn away from some line of taboo crossed. He has Raphael, bound and hard, making beautiful sounds of want and need. It's nearly enough to get off right then and there.  
  
But he doesn't. He runs his other hand along Raph's taut thigh, petting and murmuring words of encouragement. When Raph begins to rock, rubbing himself against the seat, Don lifts the tail once more. Raph's cock hangs heavy and twitching, a wet thread still clinging from his self-lubricated member.  
  
"Nnngh."  
  
Don's sharp intake of air is audible as he squeezes his eyes shut. His own need throbs in response to the sight; he shouldn't have let Raph get this far, this quickly. At this point, the only humane thing to do is to finish it. Despite Don's desire for further teasing, his more primal urges make no protest against the decision.  
  
Raphael lets out a groan that quickly becomes a rough and guttural chur as Don's fist closes tightly around his thick member. Placing the bulk of his weight against the gas tank, Raph lifts his rear as much as his position and shell will allow, to give Don better access. And Donatello makes full use of the gesture, slicking his hand against the wet cock while simultaneously reducing his brother into a mess of straining, churring need.  
  
The growl received when Don pulls away is enough for him to shudder and moan, himself. Raph goes quiet when Don presses a now-slick digit against his exposed opening, and there's a pause. A testing of the waters, so to speak.  
  
Then Raph's thighs relax and he pushes back against the touch. Donatello's own erection jumps at the action, his finger pressing past the tight ring of muscle. Slowly, in and out, stretching him.  
  
Raphael closes his eyes. He had been so close a moment before- he could just come right there in the seat with nothing but the roaring engine to goad him. But this...this is good too. He's usually too...well, too Raph to want to give up control in any situation. It's a rare night indeed when Raphael is topped, but it's altogether unheard of for Don to do the topping. That alone makes Raph an eager partner, if out of nothing more than flattery...he just hadn't expected Don to be _amazing_ at it. Raphael gladly rocks back against his brother, wanting it. Wanting the observations to end and the fucking to begin.  
  
Don's own cock is slick with the natural lubrication of his cloacal sleeve. The head butts bluntly against the puckered opening, causing Raph to tense and moan. Slowly, agonizingly so, he presses himself deeper, rocking gently as Raph's thighs alternate between clenching around the thundering bike and stretching out in ecstasy. His toes scrape across the concrete in pure bliss and Don's thrusts become deeper, picking up the pace. Donatello's cock brushes that spot, that spot that's just right. Agan and again and again as the pressure builds and roils. Raph's nerves sing as he's taken mercilessly, on his own fucking bike.  
  
A yowl fills the garage when Don tilts the angle, pressing Raph's cock back to the vibrating seat. Harder, harder against the soft leather with every stroke, every thrust. Don's voice is deep, the closest to a primitive growl that Raph has ever heard it become. "Nnngh. What is it called...mmm...I'm your backseat...nnnh...bitch?"  
  
Raph's head bows forward in a grimace of pleasure, unable to respond as his cock rubs back and forth against the bike with every move that his brother makes within him.  
  
"But Raph...nnnh...it seems that you're the bitch."  
  
With that, Raph's thighs come to grip the tank one last time in a full-body shudder that shakes the bike where it stands. He cries out, literally _screaming_ Don's name as he comes violently, splashing against the leather and making it all the more slick. Both of Don's hands come to grip Raph's lower shell, holding him steady as he pounds into him with a new-found ferocity. So tight, so hot, shuddering, Raph, _his_ name...oh God!  
  
And he comes in a scorching rush, his pistoning no longer following any recognizable rhythm. He empties himself blindly, gripping Raph's shell tightly and moaning in abandon. Donatello's completion takes just a few moments as Raph squeezes him, moving against him still. Panting and satisfied, Don rests his weight against Raph and speaks in a voice hoarse from churring. "Thanks."  
  
Raph responds with a strangled sound, his own voice tired and cracking. "Just turn it off already, will ya? I can't take much more."  
  
The throttle is released and the ignition is cut, though both turtles continue to feel that odd, tingly sensation from over-exposure. Raphael lets out a relieved groan and slumps forward, his head resting on the handlebars as Don dismounts and retrieves the key. A minute later finds them both languishing, Don sitting atop the workbench and Raph on the floor, shell propped up against the wall.  
  
Don opens a drawer to his right and pulls out two work-towels, tossing one to Raph who catches it easily and begins cleaning up. Raph chuckles quietly to himself and Don gives him a lopsided, questioning smile.  
  
"Mike always told me that I should marry the bike. Getting fucked on it isn't too far off."


End file.
